


Feedback Loop

by Oportet



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Cunnilingus, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Trans Katsuki Yuuri, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Sex, trans author
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-23 05:54:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15599781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oportet/pseuds/Oportet
Summary: "I want to blow you. You always do it for me, and I love it. I want to give it back."Yuri has never been blown before, but if anyone could make him feel good, it's Victor.





	Feedback Loop

**Author's Note:**

> first (and probably only) work i'll ever post and it's porn LMAOOOO
> 
> because i'm ftm and i love yuuri and there's not enough ftm!yuuri porn t b h
> 
> shout out to Much Ado by Columbidae (https://archiveofourown.org/works/12622248) which i've read fifteen million times and inspired me write this V

The truth was, Yuri was so, so envious of Victor. Not in a bad way, or an angry way. Just in the way that sometimes, when Yuri looked at Victor, instead of being overwhelmed by his beauty, he was instead overcome with just how much Yuri himself dwindled in comparison.

Victor was tall and his waist was lean, his shoulders broad. Yuri's own shoulders felt like thin, flimsy things, his collarbone jutting out at too sharp an angle. Victor's skin was smooth and pale and freckled whereas Yuri's had stretch marks and acne scars, his skintone either tanned or too tanned depending on the season. Victor was so perfectly muscular that Yuri once, when trying to pinch him playfully as a punishment for laughing at Yuri's blushing face, actually had trouble gathering enough skin and fat between his fingers to do the job.

There were things about Yuri that he was proud of, things in his body that he had worked hard to gain. His own muscles were a product of arduous, continuous work. His ugly, battered feet were a testament to his dedication and resolve. He had two pink lines across his chest from a surgery he'd had to work up the courage to beg for, that had kept him out of the ballet studio for two long, agonizing months. He could do a full vertical standing split with practically no thought at all.

When Yuri was younger, he'd been teased for the shape of his body. His classmates called him Debu-chan with such frequency that when a new student transferred to their class, she'd thought his surname was Debuchi. His mother had tried to make him feel better by telling him that he just took after her, that was all. _Women like us, we're just destined to be small and round_ , she'd said. _The best thing to do is accept it and embrace it, and eventually we find others who'll embrace it just as much._ And then she'd made him katsudon.

Somehow, it made him feel guilty. He danced and went on runs and stuck a needle in his leg once a week. When he looked in the mirror, he didn't so much feel _handsome_ or _attractive_ , but at least it no longer felt like he was a bodysnatcher, living in someone else's life. Still, he'd felt sometimes that he was being a bad daughter, so ready to abandon that connection between them. He felt that way even when, after every performance, his mother would set a bowl of rice and pork in front of him and say casually how proud she was to have such a beautiful danseur for a son, as if the fact was established, as if Yuri hadn't admitted as much while sobbing into her chest at the age of fifteen. On good days, the needle felt right, like finally he had accomplished something he could be proud of. But on bad days, when his hand on the syringe trembled, it left a bruise and with it a bone-deep ache in his thigh that he couldn't bring himself to let fade into the back of his mind.

The point was, Victor had never had these experiences. Though he tried so hard to understand them, emotionally, logically, academically, the reality was Yuri didn't want him to. What Yuri wanted was to bask in his ignorance, to live vicariously through it. When Yuri was in undergrad he had overheard two students laughing, in typical American vulgarity, about someone who had "a dick so small it was like an acorn." Now whenever Victor stuck his hands down his pants, he heard that voice echoing through his head, quieter and quieter as time went on but definitely still there.

So when Victor proved time and time again to be—not just sweet, or accommodating, or so, so eager to please—but to be nervous, to be insecure in his lack of experience, Yuri never quite knew how to respond to it.

* * *

It happened at night, at Victor's apartment, in Victor's bed, with Victor draped warm across him and his fingers trailing over the shell of Yuri's ear and the moonlight in Victor's hair making it shine with impossible brightness. Just like how these conversations always happened. As if Victor knew this was a situation perfectly engineered to make Yuri unthinkingly honest. Or maybe this was just the only situation where Victor could work up the courage to broach these subjects. Probably, Yuri thought, it was a case of one leading into the other. Something here was a cause and something was an effect, but Yuri couldn't possibly work out which was which when Victor was looking at him with such earnestness, when he was biting at his pink lower lip ever so slightly.

"Do you ever–" Victor started, then stopped abruptly. "I've–" he tried, then faltered again. Yuri reached up to run his fingers through Victor's hair, waiting patiently, taking the time given to brace himself.

"You know I've never been–" was Victor's last attempt before he cut himself off with a sigh and buried his face in Yuri's shoulder.

Yuri let him breathe for a few seconds before prompting, "Never been what?"

Victor didn't bother lifting his head, speaking his words muffled into Yuri's collarbone. "You know, before you, I'd never been with someone who..." He trailed off into silence.

"Someone who has a vagina?" Yuri said, as firmly and casually as he could, trying to pretend that Victor couldn't obviously pick up on his steadily increasing heart rate, couldn't feel his breath becoming shallower from where he was lying on top of him. Yuri wanted so desperately to be someone Victor could talk to without being nervous, without Victor worrying about setting him off.

"Yes," Victor said, and Yuri shivered at the feeling of his lips moving against his neck. "So I don't really know how it works." Even in the dark Yuri could see Victor's pale skin turning an obvious pink. "Well, I mean, of course I know how it works; I'm not _that_ clueless. I've attended school, you know, I had the same sex ed classes as everyone else. Actually, ours were probably more detailed, since we were all athletes. Plus at this point I've read enough Wikipedia articles to have a bit too much knowledge about what _could_ happen, you know? It's actually a bit terrifying, Yuri, I don't recommend it."

"Okay," Yuri said with a slightly horrified giggle; at this point he had to cut Victor off or Yuri would literally die of embarrassment in his arms. "I promise I won't read them."

Victor sat up to look at him, and all of Yuri's shame about how often and how much he blushed was worth it to see Victor smile at him the way he was smiling now. Victor moved his finger to brush over Yuri's cheek, his nose, his lips. "Pretty," Victor said softly, like he didn't even know he was saying it.

Yuri felt light, his chest expanding to try to contain the joy. He had no choice but to touch Victor, too, to push his hair back from his forehead, to cup his face in his hands and stroke his thumbs along Victor's perfect, high cheekbones. The ring on Yuri's finger shone in the light streaking in from the window. Yuri felt slightly drunk in his happiness and that could perhaps be blamed for why he asked, "What do you want to know then? About how it works."

Victor took the deep breath that Yuri recognized as the one that meant Victor was about to use technical terms he wasn't sure about, because Yuri had always been too hesitant and stumbling to tell him what words he'd prefer, especially given how he'd rather Victor didn't use words at all.

"I've read that most people can't orgasm just from internal stimulus," Victor recited, obvious in his cadence that this was a rote phrase not of his own making. Yuri took a moment to appreciate that he'd said _people_ instead of _women_. "That they need some sort of stimulation on... well." Victor smiled a nervous smile that looked like more of a wince. "But I've noticed that you seem to be the opposite. You do sometimes touch yourself when I'm fucking you, but not really, not like you need to. So I've been avoiding it."

Yuri hummed to show he was listening. He couldn't look Victor in the eye while this spiel was going on, his gaze instead flitting across various details in his face. The freckle on his nose, the bow of his lip, the curve of his brow. Yuri was sure that Victor could feel the heat coming off his face.

"But it occurred to me that I never really asked if I should be doing that. And I thought, maybe you actually have been wanting me to do something like that, but haven't asked for it because you were thinking that I don't want to." And here was the crux of the matter, Victor's voice going breathy as he said, quietly, "But I do want to. Very much so." The confession seemed to permeate the dark around them.

When Victor was obviously nervous or upset, Yuri's anxiety had a habit of mellowing. Not disappearing so much as settling, safely buried in the muck of Yuri's soul because there was something much more important to be taken care of. From experience, Yuri knew that this calm was temporary, and that the fear was simply lying in wait, ready to strike with a vengeance once the matter at hand was over and done. As Yuri felt his heartbeat slow in the wake of this trust that Victor was placing in him, he hoped that was not what was happening now.

"It's not that I don't like it," he said. "But you're right, I don't need it." Yuri licked his lips as he considered how to phrase his thoughts, and noticed Victor's eyes follow the motion. It was bracing. "Actually, it's more difficult for me to– Well, not difficult, but it takes longer if I don't have something inside. It's not even that whatever's in there needs to be doing anything; it's just nice, I guess, that it–" Victor was looking at him with such attention, such sincere want to understand. Yuri closed his eyes and huffed out a breath.

"I can't see it," he said slowly, making the realization for himself as the words formed. "I can't see inside me, so it's like it's not there. I don't have to think about what–" _what you're thinking of me_ , Yuri wanted to say, but knew better than to actually say it. If there was one thing that set Victor off, it was Yuri making deprecating statements about his body.

From the look on Victor's face, he knew what Yuri was going to say anyway. For a couple seconds they stared at each other, Victor looking like he wanted to say something and Yuri silently daring him to.

"I don't want to do anything you're uncomfortable with, Yuri," Victor said carefully.

"I know," said Yuri. "Same goes for you. I don't want you to think I'm uncomfortable with your wanting." Yuri laughed to himself. "I could not be _less_ uncomfortable with your wanting. You know that, don't you? You're, like, _literally_ the most beautiful man alive."

Victor laughed, then leaned in to kiss Yuri on the cheek. "False. You forgot to account for yourself. Though I guess that's not your own fault. You've known yourself for much longer than you've known me, so you've become biased by familiarity."

Yuri raised an eyebrow. "You realize the irony of that statement, right?"

"Irony? What's that?" Victor slumped down on top of Yuri, wrapping his arms and legs tightly around him, as if trying to leave no part of him untouched or unloved. "I don't understand. I don't speak English suddenly."

Yuri giggled, planted a kiss behind Victor's ear and began running his fingertips softly across Victor's back, feeling the goosebumps raise. Their breathing was slightly out of sync, and Yuri's heart grew whenever they took a breath at the same time. He was just starting to drift off when Victor whispered, "I want to blow you. You always do it for me, and I love it. I want to give it back."

A small shiver ran down his spine, and Yuri nodded as best he could, drowsy and content. "Okay," he said, and they fell asleep.

* * *

The next morning, Yuri was surprised to find that he remembered his promise. He was not sure how to feel about the fact that he had made that promise while perfectly lucid, with full knowledge of what he was agreeing to. He hadn't even been drunk at the time. It was definitely terrifying, but Yuri was struggling to grasp exactly _how_. He didn't know if he should be scared of how much he wanted it, or scared that he wouldn't. That his mental weakness would mess everything up. Probably, he thought wryly, he was just scared in general, and his mind—always eager to think up new ways his life was about to fall into disaster—was filling in the rest.

Victor didn't make any mention of it, but he was beaming as they got ready to face the day. His smile didn't fade when together they brushed their teeth, when they both pulled sweaters on because it was getting well into January, when he tossed his skates and workout gear into his duffel for practice and Yuri grabbed his pre-packed ballet bag from beside the front door.

They held hands in the elevator down to the lobby, kissed goodbye at a crosswalk, said their usual I-love-you's and then it was to the rink with Victor and to the studio with Yuri, not seeing each other again until this evening, though Victor had moved his lunch break to coincide with Yuri's so they could call each other if one of them wanted to. (Victor always wanted to.)

Yuri always arrived at the studio before everyone else because Victor got up ridiculously early in the morning. As Yuri started stretching in the empty studio, his thoughts kept drifting to how Victor's eyes always lingered on him when he did this at home... and then people started wandering in and Yuri had to force himself to stop thinking about that.

During their lunchtime phone call, Victor seemed... well, just _normal_. They talked about how Victor's new free skate choreography was coming along (well, but not as well as Victor would like, skating perfectionist that he was); they talked about what new exaggerated thing Kenjiro Minami had said (he was new to the company and so had latched onto Yuri as some sort of role model, though Yuri could not for the life of him understand why); they talked about how cute Makkachin was (very cute, such a good dog). When Yuri mentioned that the répétiteur had brought him in to demonstrate a bit of choreography to one of the female soloists, saying that Yuri brought the right vulnerability to the role, Victor skipped right over that part and talked at length about how talented Yuri was and how he should really be a principal already if anyone with eyes had any sense. It was over the top and embarrassing and lent Yuri a secret smile that he kept with him for the rest of the day.

Yuri finished his day earlier than Victor, so he was already back in Victor's apartment—showered and lying on Victor's sofa with dinner and a bag of ice, some reality cooking competition playing on TV and Makkachin's head resting in his lap—when Victor walked through the front door. He made a quick stop in the living room to lean over and plant a kiss on Yuri's head, then went straight to the bedroom to use the shower.

Victor's showers always took at least 30 minutes, so Yuri had finished dinner and dumped out his ice by the time Victor wandered back out in a T-shirt and sweatpants. "I left you some food," Yuri said. "It might still be warm." Victor grunted a thank you and Yuri heard the sounds of dishes and plasticware being knocked about before Victor returned, dinner in hand, and silently demanded Yuri scoot over on the sofa until he could use Yuri as a pillow, leant up against his chest.

Though nothing particularly different was happening, it seemed like the apartment was filled with more sound than usual. The TV droned on as some sort of secret ingredient was revealed with accompanying orchestral stabs. Victor's fork kept clinking against his bowl as he ate, and Makkachin started snoring from her spot sprawled over their feet. Rather than being overwhelmed by it, Yuri felt very present, like his whole life was here and surrounding him in a warm blanket. He settled back into the sofa and wrapped his arms more firmly around Victor's waist, so he could feel it move with each of Victor's breaths.

As the chefs began their competitive cooking in earnest, Yuri's mind started wandering back to what Victor had asked of him before. Now that he was at home, and not distracted by his obligations, he allowed himself to imagine what it would be like. For Victor be down on his knees, for him to kiss Yuri's stomach or bite his hips the way Yuri always liked to do to Victor's, for his tongue to trace a path that previously only his fingers had taken... It sent a shiver down Yuri's spine, and Yuri shifted in response, moving to trace his fingers up Victor's arm and shoulder. Victor hummed and nuzzled his head into Yuri's shoulder in appreciation.

"So, uh," Yuri began, running his fingers through Victor's hair. "Do you remember what we were talking about last night?"

Victor laughed, sudden and happy. "At least let me finish my dinner first, Yuri! Though I suppose I should have expected it. I should be used to your libido by now."

Yuri's face flushed as he hid it in Victor's hair. "Shut up," he muttered sheepishly.

Victor craned his head to look at Yuri, that thoughtful expression on his face. "I should have mentioned this a long time ago, shouldn't I?"

Even at this awkward angle, Victor was so beautiful, his eyes so blue and bright, his lashes long as he blinked up at Yuri. His lips were shining, probably from the food that he was eating. It made Yuri want to lean in and taste, and so he did, his hand on Victor's cheek holding him steady. Victor reciprocated immediately, and Yuri could feel Victor's lips against his own stretch into a smile.

Yuri was caught in the grip of anticipation, and while his brain was still debating whether to feel nervous or excited—or maybe some combination of the two, and if so, which ratio?—his body had decided on its full participation with a tingling like gooseflesh on the back of his neck and across his thighs. Victor's mouth opened slightly, and Yuri felt his tongue against his lips. Yuri reciprocated on instinct, a small moan rising unbidden from his throat.

Victor seemed happy with that, as he huffed through his nose and set his bowl to the side somewhere, immediately forgotten, so he could reposition himself straddled across Yuri's lap. The movement disturbed Makkachin, and she got up off the sofa to take her to nap elsewhere, but Yuri couldn't care with Victor so warm and heavy on top of him. His hands were resting on Yuri's neck, thumbs brushing across his collarbones as his tongue swept across Yuri's lips. Yuri opened his mouth to accept him, and Victor's tongue met his. Yuri couldn't stop touching Victor's body, from the nape of his neck to his back, further to skim palms over his waist and hips, across his thighs, then up to his chest, which was hard with muscle and looming over him. Yuri shifted until he could place his hand over Victor's fast-beating heart.

When Yuri pulled away for air, the skin of Victor's neck was looking so unblemished and tempting, so Yuri dived in, sucking kisses where it met Victor's shoulder. As soon as his mouth was free, Victor began babbling, praises for Yuri's ministrations interspersed with comments about how beautiful, how hot he was. When Yuri's hand slipped past the waistband of Victor's pants to hold and rub at his cock, Victor's praises turned more incomprehensible, giving way to groans.

"I want to–" Victor started, but was cut off by Yuri shoving at his pants for better access and turning his caresses into full, long strokes. Victor bucked into Yuri's hand for several perfect moments, then stopped him, grabbing at his wrist and leaning in to capture his lips. "Yuri, you first." Yuri's hands automatically went to his fly, but Victor shook his head. "No, let's move to the bed."

"Victor, come on," Yuri whined, rolling his hips into Victor's to try and change his mind. Those were probably the only words he could form in this state.

"No," Victor insisted, "I want you to be comfortable." Yuri groaned. He could not care less where or when anything happened at this point, as long as he never had to let go of Victor again. But Victor sat up and clambered off the sofa, pulling Yuri up with him.

Victor seemed to be in a hurry as he pulled Yuri to the bedroom by the hand. He closed the door behind him with a distracted kick of his foot, and immediately he was on Yuri again, their lips meeting and his hands pulling Yuri in by the waist. Yuri immediately started walking them backwards to the bed; they collapsed onto it, Victor crawling up to loom over Yuri as soon as his back hit the sheets.

Victor dove back in immediately, taking his lips first before moving back to suck kisses on Yuri's neck. Yuri took it in blissfully, running his hands over Victor's back, basking in the sensations. Yuri pulled at Victor's shirt, and Victor pulled back just enough to quickly yank it over his head while Yuri did the same. They were now skin to skin, and it was distracting how good Victor felt against him. It felt like every breath Victor took, Yuri was taking one, too. Yuri's hands were roaming everywhere now, in a way he knew Victor liked, and Victor was showing his own satisfaction with the movement of his hips and small noises against the skin by Yuri's ear. Victor's hands travelled down Yuri's ribs and lower to his hips, and as Victor's thumb snuck under the waistband of Yuri's pants Yuri remembered the point of this endeavour and felt a spike of anticipation run from his heart down to his stomach.

Yuri pushed Victor away, catching Victor's pout turn into a delighted smile as Yuri kicked his jeans and boxers off. "Yuri, yes," he managed to get out before Yuri was tugging Victor's off, too. Victor never bothered wearing underwear at home, and Yuri had a moment to be quietly grateful for this fact before their bodies and mouths met again, Yuri wrapping his legs around Victor's and lifting his hips with purpose.

Victor's hands were between Yuri's legs immediately, fingers tracing around where Yuri was most sensitive; Yuri's thighs fell open instinctively to give him better access. Victor used his thumbs to open Yuri up, delicately rubbing on the skin above Yuri's hole, just barely teasing in. Yuri felt his body go loose and boneless, letting out a satisfied breath. This was familiar territory; Yuri'd had Victor's fingers inside him more times than he could count. It was, in Yuri's opinion, one of Victor's greatest skills, alongside skating and making point-blank insults sound like compliments.

Victor's mouth was pressing kisses onto Yuri's chest and ribs, his thumbs still stroking and his cock pressed warm against Yuri's leg, and Yuri sunk into an almost meditative delight. He was enjoying it so much that it took him a bit by surprise when Victor's thumb wandered upward and pressed against his... well, Yuri couldn't do anything to help how he jumped, or anything to stop the moan that sounded deep in his throat.

Victor was now sucking marks onto Yuri's hipbone, and Yuri caught sight of his bright blue eyes as he glanced up at him, seemingly asking for permission. Yuri nodded frantically, biting his lip as Victor's lips moved further down, further in. Yuri saw his lips parting, his pink tongue venturing out, and...

It was weird, honestly incomparable to anything he had felt before. It wasn't exactly mind-blowing, but there was no doubt that it felt nice, good even. Yuri was feeling both too much and too little; it felt like if Yuri concentrated he could make out every detail of Victor's tongue against him, but at the same time it was far away, muffled by the heat and wetness of Victor's mouth. Then Victor flattened his tongue and licked a stripe from Yuri's hole all the way up and oh, that was amazing. Yuri's head fell back against the sheets, making noises of encouragement and trying to open his legs farther.

Victor seemed assured by this, and his tongue started working harder and faster. Yuri moved his hips with it, just a little, helping to fuck himself into Victor on instinct. It wasn't really so different from anything else they'd done, after all. It was reassuring; all Yuri had to do was feel, to experience the gift Victor was giving him.

Staring at the ceiling was started to become boring, and Yuri wanted to sit up, to restore some sort of visual connection with Victor. He was a bit wary of what he would find if he did, wary that seeing himself would bring reality crashing in and break the mood, but not being able to see Victor was starting to make him feel strange and cold. So Yuri leveraged himself up on his hands with effort, bracing himself to look down.

It wasn't so bad. All he could really see was Victor, the top of his head and the angle of his nose, the curve of his cheek disappearing over the crest of Yuri's pubic bone. The rest was obscured by the angle and his own dark hair. Yuri worried for a moment what he must look like from below, his stomach pudging slightly from how he was sitting scrunched up, but Victor didn't seem to mind. Victor, in fact, looked like he was enjoying himself more than Yuri. He was looking at Yuri glossy-eyed like Yuri was some glittering god, his brow turned up in the middle. When they met each other's eyes, Yuri licked his lips, and Victor let out a groan against him that Yuri could feel vibrate through him.

The way Victor was licking at him in long strokes of his tongue was suddenly not enough, and Yuri's back started curving inward, subconsciously trying to get Victor to pay attention to where he needed it. Victor took the hint, closing his lips around Yuri and kissing, sucking, his tongue working short and fast. Yuri gasped and moaned, and Victor's voice echoed him.

It was good, _really_ good, actually, the kind of good that had Yuri caught between holding himself still to enjoy it and desperately wanting more. He was making quite a lot of noise now, letting out groaning _ha_ 's with every breath. His arms were shaking from trying to hold himself up, his thighs trembling and his skin raised with gooseflesh. It seemed to get better and better as it went on, but at the same time he felt desperate. He was hyper-aware of the inside of him, empty and wanting. He wished Victor would put his fingers in.

His hips were moving of their own accord, trying to chase more sensation, and with every movement Victor copied him. Victor had moved to lie flat on the bed for better access, his firm grasp on Yuri's legs preventing Yuri from moving too far away from him. It seemed everything he was doing to Yuri was affecting him, too. When Yuri moaned, Victor moaned; when Yuri bucked his hips, Victor's own hips twitched downward. When Yuri's groans turned into a weak sobbing, Victor's voice rose and his pace increased.

Yuri had always thought about himself in terms of what he'd been able to give, and what he'd been willing to deny himself for Victor's sake. But seeing Victor like this made him realize that rather than denying himself, he had been denying _Victor_ his pleasure, and he never wanted to deny Victor anything. As Victor moaned against him, as his hands gripped tight at Yuri's thighs and his hips rocked into the bedspread, Yuri felt Victor's enjoyment rush through him like a feedback loop and suddenly he was a lot closer than he was before, a lot faster than he'd anticipated. He'd expected to have to force himself, to pull some mental acrobatics to keep himself in the mood, but instead he found himself suddenly grasping at Victor's hair with both hands, his hips moving to push himself into Victor's mouth again, again, again until finally he shook apart.

There was no way he was holding himself up anymore after that. Yuri fell back into the sheets, his hands in Victor's hair now gently resting. Victor was somehow still going, pressing tiny kisses and licks as Yuri twitched until he used the grip in Victor's hair to pull him away. Victor crawled his way up Yuri's body and Yuri _had to_ kiss him, absolutely had to, no matter how gross the tangy taste of him was.

Victor was whimpering into their kisses, his cock hard and leaking as it rubbed against Yuri's hip. "Yuri," he said between kisses, "Yuri, Yuri, Yuri, that was so good." His voice was thick and slightly raspy. It was the most attractive thing Yuri had ever heard in his life.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" Yuri said, hands cradling Victor's head. "Sorry, I didn't mean to be so rough..."

Victor hummed. "No, I'm fine. I'm great. Please feel free to do it again."

He looked like he meant it. His gaze was soft and slightly unfocused, his smile wide and dopey in the way he sometimes got after sex, even though Yuri could feel clearly that he hadn't come yet. Yuri ran his fingers through Victor's hair, trying to soothe any pain he might have inflicted, and Victor let out a soft moan, his head dropping onto Yuri's shoulder. Yuri felt him shift as he reached down a hand to wrap around his cock.

Yuri grabbed at Victor's wrist and pulled it away. His brain was still spinning from the orgasm, but he had thought of the straining emptiness in him, the phantom sensation of someone else reaching a place he couldn't get to himself, and suddenly wanted Victor inside him so much he thought he could cry from it.

Victor pulled his head back to look at Yuri, his gaze open and expectant. Yuri's face grew hot and was sure he was bright red when he said, "Victor, will you please fuck me?" It was worth it for how Victor responded, looking overcome and slightly surprised, as if Yuri hadn't asked Victor for such a thing before. Victor quickly sat up and snatched a condom from the bedside table, slammed the drawer open and shut and ripped the package open, trying to put it on quickly while Yuri spread his legs. Yuri reached down to hold himself open for it, and Victor's hands went to hold Yuri's hips.

Those first few thrusts were always a bit life-changing, but somehow this one felt a million times better than usual. There was no careful in and out like all the times before, just one perfect stroke as Victor seated himself fully, Yuri's spend slicking the way, the walls of him tensing and convulsing as if they didn't want to let Victor go. It was unreal, how good it felt to have him like this, a wash of tingling contentment coming over Yuri in a wave.

As Victor began to move, all of that fell away. It turned out Yuri'd had no idea what pleasure was before this, because this was beyond words, beyond feeling, beyond anything. Yuri's entire body felt overtaken, the wave turning into a crashing typhoon that ripped away absolutely everything in Yuri's mind, the possibility of thought, of any sensation other than this, this, this. Any other time, there were parts of him that were more sensitive than others, angles that worked better, but now the whole of him was like a livewire, and Yuri couldn't have said for the life of him how Victor was fucking him, only that he was and it was perfect. Anything felt like it was teetering on the edge of too good, and it felt like Victor was doing _everything_.

Yuri spent some time like that, feeling as if he was floating, like those waves that were travelling through his body, up through his legs, his back, his head, had gone straight through to his mind and pushed him out of himself. But eventually, impossibly, Yuri came back, and as he did he realized all the things his body had been doing without his permission. He felt his legs kicking, his toes curling and uncurling. His hips bucking up against Victor's grip, his mouth hanging open as sound poured out of him. The insides of him were pulsing, convulsing violently like the beginning of an orgasm, only they didn't stop, couldn't stop if Yuri wanted them to. There was sweat dripping down the backs of Yuri's thighs, and he was gripping at the sheets, thrashing like he wanted to tear them apart. It was the kind of display that would have embarrassed Yuri if it wasn't so entirely justified.

And Victor, Victor had never looked so gorgeous, his long fingers holding Yuri steady, his torso shining and pink, his eyebrows scrunched up in pleasure, strands of his hair sticking to his forehead, and his perfect, beautiful, amazing cock sinking into Yuri over and over again. Their eyes met and couldn't look away and Yuri let himself bask in that, the feedback loop as Victor's thrusts turned deeper, faster, more wild as he got closer and closer to the edge.

Victor let out a long, low groan, falling forward on his elbows, his thrusts slow and hard, grinding in deep, and Yuri was going crazy from it, twitching and shaking with every breath until finally Victor stilled. Yuri was still clenching and unclenching around him. Now that Victor wasn't moving, he could feel the delicious shape of him inside and couldn't help but shiver, his hips rolling into it. Victor's breath caught before he let out a broken moan, his hands tensing and untensing on Yuri's hips like a pulse as his face dropped into Yuri's collarbone.

Yuri felt overcome by love then, and his hands left the sheets so he could fold his arms around Victor's shoulders, palms running up and down his back as they both breathed heavily, chests heaving against each other.

"How many times was that?" Victor said, panting into Yuri's neck and sounding a bit amazed. It was a good question; it wouldn't be the first time Yuri had come more than once while Victor was inside him, and usually he could make a decent guess. This time, though, Yuri had no idea where to even begin answering the question. The answer was both one and infinity, but those words seemed woefully inadequate. He didn't have the right words to describe that that was less an orgasm and more some sort of spiritual awakening to the kind of perfection that was possible in a world where Victor loved him.

"It was more like the first one just never ended," he said instead, and speaking made him realize just how out of breath he was, his words coming out shaky and tremulous. He was sucking in huge breaths, the air scratching at his throat and his heart still pounding. Almost like he was having an attack, he thought, and the thought turned his attention inward, to the usual dark home in his soul where his anxiety lived, the place he always had to take special care to be aware of.

He found instead that the spot where his doubts and fears usually sat was lying empty. He wasn't quite sure what to do with the loss.

They lay there together until eventually their breathing evened out, and Victor sat up to pull out. Yuri, unhappy with the emptiness, replaced Victor with his first three fingers and sighed. Victor exhaled in something between a breath and a moan. He gave Yuri's knee a quick apologetic kiss before getting up and tossing the condom in the trash quickly. It might not even have made it into the trash can, which was a bit gross, but Yuri didn't much care when it meant Victor could slide back into his arms, safely back where he belonged.

Yuri pulled his fingers out so Victor could put his in, his first two fingers resting gently against the swollen front wall. It was something Victor liked to do after sex, and Yuri would never complain. It felt nice, and Yuri often liked to do the same to Victor: hold Victor's cock until it went fully soft, then kiss it or run his fingertips over it. Yuri closed his eyes and melted, taking in Victor's warmth and feeling Victor's heartbeat slow.

Eventually, though, Yuri had to move; Victor had gotten heavy, and the sweat trapped between their bodies more than a little gross. He shoved at Victor's shoulder until Victor got the hint and rolled off of him, and Yuri shifted up until he was comfortable, head settled back against the pillows and limbs starfished. Victor followed him, dragging himself across the bed until their eyes were even with each other. His face was right by Yuri's hand, so he ran a thumb on Victor's brow, his nose, his cheekbone. Victor's eyes slid shut.

"Don't you need to use the bathroom?" was what Victor chose to break the silence with.

"You noticed that, huh?" Yuri had hoped Victor would have the decency to let such a thing go unmentioned, but apparently nothing was off limits for them.

"I read it in an article, actually, and thought I should tell you, before I noticed you doing it on your own. It's good for you, apparently, washes out any bacteria that might have gotten in during–"

"No," Yuri groaned. "Don't talk about _bacteria_ right now. You're banned from articles. Grounded." He'd meant to sound stern, but was so happy that he began laughing instead. He had never been this light before; he felt like he was made of paper, like he was hollow inside, like the air could catch him and carry him away. His legs were hanging open, exposed to the whole of the room, and he didn't care. It was only Victor in here, after all. Victor wouldn't care. Victor loved him. Yuri only needed to look at Victor right now to see it.

Victor caught Yuri's hand in his own and kissed his ring, like he could hear Yuri's thoughts. Yuri returned the gesture, just so he could watch the grin break over Victor's face before Victor pounced, showering kisses and love on whatever part of Yuri he could reach. _This_ , Yuri thought, _if the rest of my life could feel just like this, that would be enough for me._

**Author's Note:**

> still not satisfied with that ending, but oh well d(-_-)b


End file.
